


Fangs & Lashes

by yours_eternally



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Come Eating, Feeding, Frottage, M/M, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Do want me to scream a bit first?’ Ricky asks, hysteria plucking at him again as he wriggles back into the pillows, pretending his heartbeat hasn't shifted up to pound into his throat, ‘get you in the mood?’‘You’re so fucking funny,’ Chris says, expression taut as his cool fingers close around Ricky’s forearm.Ricky knows Chris has been having a dry spell since the lock-down started, and he thinks he might have a solution.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Fangs & Lashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xnowimnothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/gifts).



🦇 Chris 🦇  
  
**Today** 09:32 PM  
  
any luck?  
  
Nope  
  
that sucks, man  
  
Ha. Ha.  
  


Ricky snorts at the sarcasm dripping from Chris’ text. He drops his phone on the mattress and rolls up to stand. He shuffles to his tiny shared kitchen to snag a beer. He’s alone in the apartment and bored. His roommate had had their return flight cancelled before they’d left for the airport; turning a weekend with their parents into a fortnight with no end in sight. They’d been texting Ricky in all caps daily.

He sighs, rattling through the refrigerator to dig out a bottle. He cracks the top, thinking. His supply was getting low. Tomorrow he’d have to brave a furtive trip to the store. He isn’t sure beer is an essential purchase but he is sure he isn’t spending another month in lock-down sober. And besides he could probably do with some food other than out-of-date instant ramen.

Ricky jumps, pulse jack-hammering, at a sudden rap on the window behind him and turns to see a pale hand pressed against the glass. Ricky lives on the fifth floor and doesn’t have a fire escape; he feels like he’ll sleep better if he doesn’t think too hard about how Chris is knocking on the window.

‘Come in,’ he says as he pulls up the sash and steps back to allow Chris to unfold his lanky frame. As Chris brushes himself down Ricky can see he looks paler and gaunter than three nights ago when he’d last seen him. There are bruise purple shadows under his eyes and his tattoos are popping against his white skin. Ricky can feel his gut twist; he knew Chris' feeding options had been severely curtailed since the start of lock-down but he’s looking worse and worse.

‘Shit,’ Ricky says by way of greeting.

‘Thanks,’ Chris says, mouth twisting into a close-lipped smile.

‘How long’s it actually been since you ate?’ Ricky asks. Chris shrugs.

‘Long enough,’ he says, ‘everyone’s inside, so I’m fucked.’ He leans against Ricky’s counter top, picking at his chipped nails. Ricky sucks his lip, eyes on Chris’ profile. He can remember the first time he’d seen him; drop dead gorgeous, of course. He’d been wearing all black Ray-Bans, though it was overcast, and sucking down an iced coffee like it was the Elixir of Life. When Chris had told him, a month later, what he was Ricky hadn’t believed it.

He still doesn’t know a lot about Chris’ other, night-time life. But it’s obvious Chris is fraying at the edges and it makes him ache for him. And there’s one way he knows he can help him.

‘Look, you could—’ Ricky says, putting a hand under his hair to push it back over his shoulder. He can see Chris’ eyes immediately flick to and trace the line of his throat. He feels a lick of heat, like Chris' mouth is already on his skin.

They’d done it before. Once. Chris had been injured somehow— he hadn’t asked. Appearing at Ricky’s window, just like now, his eyes had been reddish and fathomless, a growl rumbling low in his chest. After it was over, Ricky’s memories were snapshots, choppy and blurred. Chris' icy lips on his wrist; black-nailed hands tight on his forearm; the burn of the bite.

Chris didn’t speak, posture rigid. His arms are folded tightly across his chest, creasing the leather of his jacket.

‘I’m alive,’ Ricky says, eyelashes low like he’s checking out the pattern on the kitchen tiles.

‘Congratulations,’ Chris grits out, hands tucking tighter into the bends of his arms.

‘No, I mean,’ Ricky says, stealing himself and taking a step toward Chris, ‘my blood. You know I can feed you.’ He holds out his hand, palm up. Chris doesn’t move. ‘I can tell you’re starving,’ Ricky adds, closing his hand into a fist to bring up the bluish veins in his wrist.

‘ _Don’t_ ,’ Chris growls, twitching back from him. Ricky looks up at Chris as he takes another step closer. Chris tucks his chin down, jaw clenched, hands now glued to the countertop behind him like he’s trying to keep himself in place. Ricky doesn’t move back. He can see Chris’ pupils are blown so wide his eyes look completely black.

‘You want to die that badly?’ Chris says, breaking the silence and lifting his head to glare at Ricky. His eyebrows are drawn in and his lips are pressed together tight as though he’s trying to prevent them curling back over his teeth.

‘I won’t die,’ Ricky says, eyes still on Chris’ face, ‘—not if it’s you.’ He can feel his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs and wonders if Chris can hear it.

‘Don’t be so fucking stupid,’ Chris snaps, lifting his hand to push him back but then lowers it stiffly as though he doesn’t trust himself. ‘I’m an animal, Rick. No soul, no nothing. I get one taste of your blood and that’s it.’

‘Then why are you here?’ Ricky says, fear for Chris and frustration sharpening his voice with every word. His pulse is pounding in his ears. ‘You could snap any time, right? And you’ve come here, where I am.’ Chris shifts but doesn’t speak and Ricky can sense his energy changing, ‘You've done it before; let me feed you before you can’t control yourself.’

‘I’m here _because_ I know I’m not going to lose it with you,’ Chris says, exhaling heavily, one hand going up to sleek back his hair, ‘but last time was different.’

‘Because you were hurt?’ Ricky says, taking a breath as well trying to calm down. For someone much older than he looked Chris could be so dumb.

‘Because I had no other choice,’ Chris says flatly.

‘What choice do you have now?’ Ricky asks, gesturing around the room they’re stood in, ‘what if this _Contagion_ shit goes on for another month? Another three? What are you going to do?’ Chris sighs. Ricky can see his posture soften even as his eyes take on that reddish tone that makes the fine hairs on Ricky’s skin prickle.

‘You're sure?’ Chris says. His eyes move back to Ricky’s throat again and Ricky nods. ‘Do you remember much about last time?’

‘No,’ Ricky admits.

‘That’s normal,’ Chris says tugging at one of his lip rings now and Ricky feels a bubble of laughter rising in his chest because what about any of this is _normal_? Chris speaks again: ‘I won’t take much. It hurts.’ He peers at Ricky to check he’s following and Ricky nods again. The pain is the thing he remembers most vividly. ‘And, um, there’s other physical stuff that’s weird as well,’ Chris says and Ricky shakes his head. Half-formed images were flickering across the surface of his mind and he can feel his skin flushing.

‘Just do it,’ Ricky says, pulling up his sleeve, ‘don’t explain.’ Chris nodded, though he’s still fiddling the lip ring, not looking completely convinced. At last he drops his hand and nods again.

‘Okay. You should sit down,’ he says, ‘or lie down— maybe you should lie on your bed.’

‘Okay,’ Ricky says as well, leading Chris out of the kitchen and to his room. Usually they’d be camped out on his bed already, the laptop between them, watching the worst reality show they could dig out of _Netflix_.

Chris follows him into the room, ordering him to sit on the bed and starting to stack and re-stack pillows at his back. Ricky lets him arrange them and dump one in his lap.

‘What’s that for?’ Ricky asks, picking it up.

‘You’ll want it,’ Chris says, eyes skating over Ricky's as he sits on the bed beside him, chewing his lip again. It’s awkward. Chris isn’t looking at him, black hair hanging over his face. All Ricky can hear is his own breathing.

‘Do want me to scream a bit first?’ Ricky asks, hysteria plucking at him again as he wriggles back into the pillows, pretending his heartbeat hasn't shifted up to pound into his throat, ‘get you in the mood?’

‘You’re so fucking funny,’ Chris says, expression taut as his cool fingers close around Ricky’s forearm. He pauses, thumb smoothing over the thin skin of Ricky’s inner wrist: ‘promise you’ll tap out if you need to, okay? I won’t be mad.’

‘Promise,’ Ricky whispers, feeling tingling shocks spreading out from where Chris is touching him. Chris lowers his head, blocking Ricky’s view. He can feel cold lips then stinging pressure before the pain starts to spread out in earnest; sending a raw ache up to his elbow making his stomach cramp and burn. Ricky hisses through his teeth, tensing every muscle on his body to stop himself cringing back.

His arm is quickly going numb, which is sort of a relief. He realises one of Chris’ hands is tight on his thigh, hot and living now. That heat seems to be seeping up Ricky’s leg into his hips, making him hyper aware of his unexpectedly straining cock. He clenches a fist into the pillow in his lap and can’t quite prevent himself rubbing into it. He can feel Chris withdraw a little, lapping over the wound. The last of the pain is receding as well leaving rippling sensitivity in its wake.

Chris gives his skin one final lick before straightening. Ricky can feel himself shaking as his body works to process the glut of adrenaline. Chris pushes his hair back, thumb stroking over the piercings in his bottom lip. When Ricky looks at him he can see his mouth is open and his fangs are visible, long and gleaming, brushing his bottom lip. Ricky’s never seen them before. There’s blood too. His blood.

The thought goes straight to his oversensitive cock, sending a flush sprawling across his cheeks and down his chest. Ricky sits up, starbursts popping behind his eyes, as he blindly reaches for Chris and pulls their mouths together. Chris whines.

‘ _Rick_ ,’ he mumbles warningly, but remains still, allowing Ricky to kiss and lick his mouth until it's too much. He pushes Ricky back on the bed. His body is warmer than Ricky’s ever felt it as he climbs over him. He yelps as Chris hooks a hand into the neck of his t-shirt and pulls, ripping the fabric from his throat to his navel and pressing his mouth to his skin. Ricky pants holding his head, fingers twisting in his hair. He arches his back into Chris’ sharp kisses, thoughts racing, as a hand catches the waistband of his jeans.

‘Let me,’ Ricky says, breathless, slipping the top button but Chris isn’t listening, already pulling apart the two halves. The zip rips and the seams pop under Chris' preternatural strength. Ricky can feel his breath getting short. He’s never known Chris like this; his face strange and expressionless, eyes empty, as inhuman as Ricky has ever seen him. Ricky's pulse is kicking, making the new wound on his wrist throb. Chris pulls the denim down his thighs, freeing his half-hard cock, striping him completely.

Chris sits back, shrugging off his jacket, pulling his t-shirt over his head and pushing his own jeans down. Ricky takes him in appreciatively, seeing he’s hard as well, the ink on his stomach livid. When he’s naked Chris lays back down over him so they’re skin to skin, guiding Ricky’s thigh up over his hip so he can fit their cocks alongside each other. Ricky moans, squirming against him.

‘ _Mmm_ ,’ Chris says, hot mouth on his chest, ‘yeah, like that, keep going baby.’ Ricky moans again, pushing up into Chris’ blanketing weight. Chris is moving too, hips rocking into him, hand on his waist to lead his movements. Ricky fits against the length of his body. Chris hums into his hair, he's clumsy and uncontrolled. His hands are tight, and Ricky’s sure they’re leaving bruises on his thigh and ribs.

Ricky loops his arms around Chris’ neck, wanting his mouth again but Chris presses their foreheads together.

‘Don’t kiss me again,’ Chris says, mouth against his ear, ‘I _can’t_ —’ Ricky nods, light-headed, and Chris presses a kiss behind his ear. Chris licks his palm and slides it between their bodies, taking hold of Ricky’s cock. Ricky hisses, pressing into his touch. His spine flexes, every nerve ending on fire. His toes curl into the sheets as shivering static shocks spread out on his skin with every stroke. Chris sucks his earlobe, his strokes are short and firm now, making Ricky’s whole body shudder.

He’s so close he can barely breathe when Chris licks a wet stripe down his neck and he comes. The orgasm rips through his gut, making him writhe under Chris. Ricky can feel Chris’ cock sliding against the skin on his stomach, slick in their sweat and his come. Ricky catches his jaw, ignoring Chris’ warning, and fits their mouths back together. Chris allows him to kiss him. Ricky groans, hands tightening on his shoulders, hot with aftershocks. Ricky can feel him arching over him as he runs his tongue over Chris’ incisor and tasting metal. Chris pulls back, gasping, and Ricky can feel his come sticking to his skin.

Ricky let him go, panting, waiting for his breathing to even out. He presses his hand over his mouth, sucking the cut in his tongue. He can still taste metal. It hurts but not badly. Chris is bent over him again, mouthing his stomach. Ricky strokes Chris’ hair as he licks, cleaning his body, leaving the small bites on his chest stinging.

‘Does it taste good?’ Ricky asks, dazed from the orgasm and the blood loss.

‘Yeah,’ Chris answers as he straightens up, licking over Ricky’s palms one at a time, sucking his fingers, ‘are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Ricky says, yawning and stretching out as Chris moves to sit beside him, ‘tired.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to—’

‘I wanted it,’ Ricky interrupts, eyes on the taut line of Chris’ lips. ‘Is it always like that?’ He asks, looking into Chris' face. He’s back now. Familiar. Though he’s flushed and Ricky can’t remember if he’s ever seen him like that before. ‘You’re warm,’ he mumbles, hand on Chris’ chest feeling nothing where a heartbeat should have been.

‘It lasts a few hours,’ Chris says, getting up from the bed, ‘and no, it’s not always like that.’

‘Are you leaving?’ Ricky says, pushing himself upright.

‘No, I’m getting you water,’ Chris says as he trots out of the room, returning a minute later with a dripping glass. ‘C’mon drink all of it.’

Ricky sat up, crossing his legs, and drinking deeply from the glass realising he’s thirsty only when the water touches his lips. Chris smooths Ricky’s hair as he drinks.

‘Let’s see your arm,’ he says when the glass is empty. Ricky holds out his wrist; Chris must have done something because the wound already looks a week old.

‘Looks good,’ Chris says, thumbs pressing lightly at the edge. ‘How does it feel?’

‘Itchy,’ Ricky answers and Chris snorts softly.

‘That’s good,’ Chris says, retrieving his shirt and pulling it on. Ricky watches him dress in silence. It’s awkward again and it’s makes Ricky’s skin prickle. Chris doesn’t usually stay with him in the apartment, even when dawn is so close the sky is already blushing pink.

‘I’m going to crash on the couch,’ Chris says, surprising him. Ricky half opens his mouth to mention it but Chris gives him his close-lipped smile: ‘you shouldn’t be on your own tonight in case you have a weird reaction later.’

‘You could sleep in here,’ Ricky says, pulling at a loose thread on his sheet, not looking at him.

‘You need to rest,’ Chris says but Ricky can see he's smirking, ‘if I sleep in here I’m going to want to take another bite out of you.’

‘That’s a bad thing?’ Ricky asks, tipping his head as settles further into his pillows, smirking back. Chris laughs but doesn’t answer, kissing him on the cheek before walking out, pulling the door closed behind him. Ricky sighs but gives up, rearranging himself to lie on his side. He can hear the TV go on in the other room as sleep drags him under almost as soon as he closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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